


of sleep and sacrifices

by cookiethewriter



Series: blue eyes and a heartbeat [3]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: ;D, Dean is a glutton, Fluff and Smut, I should be writing my novel, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Roman is not a morning person, also the smut is VERY minimal, but it's after midnight lol, when I finish the 'smutty ending' you'll get that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8459512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethewriter/pseuds/cookiethewriter
Summary: prompt: cute morning Ambreigns waking up together, 'absolute fluffiest thing possible'.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romanreigning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanreigning/gifts).



> Although fluff really isn't my strong suit, I couldn't pass up the chance to do this. Especially because I'd already partially started this, though I had a different ending in mind. An ending much smuttier. (One day, I'll post /that/ version. ;D)

Broken sunlight shines through the blinds, casting an unwanted brightness over the form of a sleeping Dean Ambrose; the blanket that he’d gone to sleep with over his shoulder had slipped to his hips, exposing his bare chest to the morning air, touched with just a slight coolness as summer melted into autumn. His hands reached up to swipe across his face, up and down, wiping the drool from the corner of his lips before wiping it on the sheets.

Trying to blink awake with the sun in his eyes was a horrible idea at the time, especially because he didn’t have to work and had had every intention to sleep in until an ungodly hour, but his body had other plans. Rolling over and out of bed, he tends to the sudden press of his bladder, walking out several minutes later with freshly-minty breath and his hair at least partly tamed.

It wasn’t neat-looking by any means, but it wasn’t sticking out at every angle.

Climbing back into bed as carefully as he can, so as not to disturb his sleeping boyfriend.

Roman Reigns; looked every part the godly statue that he seemed on the surface, with a sharp jawline and broad shoulders and bulging muscles. His voice was smooth as honey and deep, _so deep_ , dark like night but with a smile like the sun that had awoken him in the first place. Hot in all the right ways, warm in the better ones.

Hooking his finger under the blanket and wiggling his body underneath it, he presses his bare back up into Roman’s chest, bare as he was with the exception of his boxers. Dean, in his black boxer briefs, made sure to press his body everywhere he knew it fit, ass to groin, spine to chest, and the sleepy grumble and arm wrapping around his small waist was as much a victory as anything. He has enough time to utter a _G’mornin’_ before the larger man’s arm lifts to hug around his chest, scooting closer, creating a suffocating heat between them and only doing worse things to the younger by kissing at his shoulder.

“’s too early for this,” sleep had deepened Roman’s voice, made it sound wrecked, and Dean smiles despite himself. “’specially on our day off.” Still, he drags lazy lips from his shoulder to the junction where it and Dean’s neck met, adding his teeth in a bite of reprimand before running his tongue across it immediately. The noise Dean makes is one he doesn’t realize leaves his mouth until he feels the other smile into his skin, and he suddenly feels hotter than he had prior.

“Mm, s’never too early for _this_.” Rolling his hips, the light-haired delights in the press of stiff flesh against his clothed backside, in the sound that leave Roman’s lips, that makes them vibrate from the hummed groan, and this time the Samoan latches his mouth onto the skin at the juncture again, arm pulling the other back by the waist and pushing hard right back against him. “C’mon, Ro. Le’s start this off _right._ ”

Where he expects some dark promise, some _oh, you’re gonna get it_ or something, he’s met with the soft giggle at his neck, and Roman breathes as he angles his hips only to press again against Dean’s ass, “You’ve tainted me. Y’know how precious sleep during the day is to a bouncer who works all night, baby?”

“I know how much sleep is precious to _you_ , more specifically, which’s why I’ll sacrifice _my_ sleep - (he vaguely hears Roman mutter _lazy ass_ under his breath and rewards him with a slight headbutt) - to get you all fucked-out. Outta the goodness of _my_ heart, ‘cause I love you.”

“The sacrifices you make are inspiring.” Roman deadpans, biting his skin again, before he runs a large hand up and down Dean’s torso a few times, entranced by the sleep-warm skin before dipping his fingers into his waistband and breathing out when he felt his dick already half-hard in his fingers. “If ya’ really loved me, you’d let me sleep, but you just _have_ to be a brat.”

“Tha- that’s m- _fuck_.”

It doesn’t take much to get Dean to full hardness, but he doesn’t stroke him to completion, simply pulls his hand out and presses against the other’s hip to push him onto his back. “Maybe I’m not as nice as you - maybe I’ll fuck you through the bed and go back to sleep and not let you cum.”

Dean acts offended for all of .2 seconds before his lips quirk in a grin. “Nah. You won’t. Ya love me too much.”

Scrunching up his mouth, Roman makes a frustrated noise before diving in to kiss at Dean’s throat, avoiding his mouth in a great sign of self-restraint since he hadn’t washed out the taste of death on his tongue. One single press of his fat tongue on the other’s jugular makes the smaller shudder, hands shooting out to grip onto the Samoan’s thick shoulders, bitten-down nails digging into the soft, tan flesh.

Sucking a bruise on the other’s neck and leaning back to admire his handiwork, he presses a chaste kiss to the mark before he gets up, much to the displeasure of Dean who makes a noise close to a whine deep in his throat. “’m gonna go brush my teeth real quick. You get yourself undressed for me and I’ll think about how you can repay me for wakin’ me up.” Before he leaves, he watches Dean get up on his knees and wiggle out of his underwear, licking his bottom lip at the obscene way the other’s dick stands at attention, and knee-walks to Roman’s side of the bed to grab the lube out of the bedside drawer. Leaning forward, Roman swats his bare ass, and only after the _Hey!_ does he turn around with a wicked laugh in his throat to enter the master bathroom.

* * *

As much as Roman could go for romping around the sheets all day - because Dean was a glutton for punishment, as he’d learned earlier on in their relationship - eventually, he had to get up and get food. And Dean, despite his complaining, probably wasn’t running on empty too, and it would only be a matter of time before he complained about _that_ , and Roman was _not_ a fan of the whining.

So, after round three was rudely interrupted by the loud growl of Dean’s stomach, the Samoan climbed out of bed and slipped on his pajama pants and instructed the light-haired to “Sit tight, I’ll bring up breakfast.” Which, suffice to say, suited Dean just fine as he was practically putty melting against the blankets, waiting for his breath to catch up to him and his head to stop swimming. Of course, the sight made Roman grin, a dirty satisfaction in his brown eyes, before he left the bedroom and went into the kitchen.

Now, Roman was no chef - he liked cooking, liked the smells that swept through the house when he did, how it seemed to permeate the walls and leave everything just _smelling really good_. But he knew how to cook a mean breakfast, packed with carbs and protein and something sweet on the side.

As the smells start filling the inside of the kitchen, he’s not surprised to hear footsteps behind him, the arms circling his waist and lips lazily dragging along his shoulder, in not-quite kisses. Looking over his shoulder, he utters a chuckle, feeling a little cocky as he feels the body of his boyfriend pressing against his, still worn out but at least dressed in sleep shorts. “Can I help you?” his voice husks, amused.

“Food…” moans Dean, body adjusting so he can perch his chin on Roman’s shoulder, licking his lips as he watches the wooden spoon drag through the pain, stirring the scrambled eggs before spooning them on the plate next to bacon and sausage and half of an orange. “Looks so good…”

“Yeah?” Roman presses, putting the pan on one of the back burners and doing so without shaking Dean’s head off of his shoulder. Turning around, he palms one of Dean’s ass cheeks, giving it a firm pat. “Go eat then, because I’m not done with you.”

And Dean, hungry now in another way, grabs his plate and grabs a piece of sausage straight away, shoving half of it in his mouth in one go, much to the larger man’s aggravation; if it could be held in one’s fingers, even if it wasn’t meant to be, Dean would use his to eat it. And it wouldn’t bother Roman so much if the other didn’t start walking back in the direction of their bedroom, and that meant greasy fingers on the sheets, even if he brought napkins with him. Uttering a sigh, he got out a tray from a cabinet above him and put his plate on top of it, then proceeded to pour them each a cup of coffee he’d made and a glass of orange juice for each of them. Satisfied, he picked up the tray and made his way back to the bedroom.

The two of them eat in relative quiet - or, quiet with the exception of Dean’s loud chewing and the occasional groan of _I love sausage_ and Roman’s little giggle afterwards, the enabler that he was - and finish off their coffee feeling much more energetic. As predicted, Dean wiped off a lot of the mess on something other than the towel they kept bed-side, but luckily the ‘something’ wasn’t the sheet they had chosen to curl back into. The victim was the sleep shorts he’d discarded the moment he was done eating.

Instead of jumping into their interrupted Round Three, Dean instead decided that Roman’s chest was the perfect place to sleep off his breakfast, dozing on his broad chest in a matter of minutes. Roman, not quite tired but peacefully content with letting his food digest, wrapped an arm around Dean’s back, breathing a warm laugh into the light strands of hair curling around the other’s forehead. It wasn’t long before Dean’s leg was carelessly thrown between both of Roman’s, hiking up the pajama pants he’d haphazardly thrown on earlier, and he was made the human body pillow of the sleeping man.

Dragging his fingers up and down Dean’s spine, Roman reveled in this - the sunshine was bright and warm coming through the window, illuminating the light-haired perched comfortably all along his left side. His arm was bent at the elbow, fingers curled into a loose fist right on top of Roman’s left pectoral, a bubble of spittle already on his bottom lip.

A soft moan escaped Dean as Roman’s hand slid over his naked back, nothing but content to be here, too far gone to make a fuss. Lips pulled almost diagonal, the latter breathes a sigh, feels as the former makes one final adjustment of his front completely pressed to Roman’s side, before he holds him close.

Yeah. Not a terrible start to a day off at all.


End file.
